Burden of Sacrifice
by lawnmowerelf
Summary: Sam and Dean look for help in getting their father out of hell from Lindsey McDonald.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Burden of Sacrifice

Author: lawnmowerelf

Rating: PG

Pairing: none

Spoilers: Crossroads

Disclaimer: The last time I checked, my name wasn't Kripke. Therefore, I own none of this, more's the pity.

Summary: Sam and Dean look for help in getting their father out of hell from Lindsey McDonald.

Author's Note: For the sake of this fic, I'm assuming that either Lindsey somehow survived 'Not Fade Away' or he got tossed into the Supernatural universe by the Powers after he died.

Burden of Sacrifice

"Dean, are you sure about this?"

Dean didn't even glance over at Sam as he nodded, gaze fixed on the small, perfectly ordinary looking house where the man they were looking for was supposed to live. The man that Bobby had told them was the only one who might be able to help them. The man who hopefully would know some way for them to retrieve their father from hell.

Lindsey McDonald.

"Yeah, Sam. I'm sure. If there's any way to save Dad, we need to know."

He could hear Sam's frustrated sigh, and it almost brought a smile to his face. He'd never mention it to Sam, but he was thankful that at least one of them was keeping a level head about this, that Sam was determined to remain skeptical about the whole affair. It was comforting to know that if he started getting carried away, if he started to do something to save John that crossed the line that Sam would be there to reel him back in.

"Dean, even if Bobby's right and this guy is on the level there still might not be anything he can do."

Dean sighed, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets and starting towards the front door, hearing Sam trail along behind him. "I know, Sammy. But I've got to try."

The man who answered the door wasn't quite what Dean was expecting. For one thing he wasn't much older than Dean himself, which he hadn't expected with the amount of experience with the supernatural the man was supposed to have, though he supposed he should have known better. But there was something in the blue eyes, some sort of hard edge, that practically screamed that this man was dangerous.

"So, what can I do for you boys?"

His voice was deceptively lazy, bringing to mind a large jungle cat that was just waiting to jump up and lunge at his throat.

Dean met his eyes, slowly pulling his hands from his pockets to show that they were empty. "Bobby Singer said you might be able to help us."

The blue eyes widened slightly at Bobby's name, but that was Lindsey's only visible reaction. "Well now, that depends on what kind of help you boys need."

Dean took a deep breath, glancing back at Sam for an instant and squaring his shoulders when Sam nodded slightly. "Bobby said you might be able to help us get our dad out of hell."

Lindsey just stared at them for a moment before he let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head and ushering them into the house. "Not asking for much, are you? Why are you so sure your daddy's in hell, anyway, and what makes you think anybody can get him out?"

Dean glanced over at Sam again, wordlessly asking him to do the explaining. Sam just nodded.

"Dean was dying. There was a reaper there to collect him and everything. Dad made a deal with a demon to save Dean's life, and sacrificed his own in the process." He sighed, running a hand through his hair and obviously trying not to look at the pained expression on Dean's face. "Then recently Dean had a run in with another demon who told him that Dad was suffering in hell because of the deal he made, and that Dean could make another deal to get him out."

Lindsey whistled at that, looking at Dean with something that might have been respect. "Must have been tough, telling the demon no. Was the smart thing to do, though. Selling your soul is never a good idea. Trust me." He shivered slightly, then glanced between Sam and Dean with narrowed eyes. "It might be possible to get your daddy out of hell. Maybe. But are the two of you going to be willing to pay the price? And unlike your friendly neighborhood demon, I'm not talking about your souls."

Dean turned to meet Sam's eyes, then they both nodded and looked at Lindsey. "What would we need to do?"

Lindsey just smiled and headed for the nearby bookshelf. "First things first. You've gotta figure out which hell your daddy's in. Can't work up a plan to get him out until you know that."

"You mean there's more than one hell?" Sam's eyes were wide, and Dean could tell that he was almost drooling with academic curiosity.

The other man laughed, pulling books off of the shelf. "Son, there's probably more hell dimensions than there are people to fill 'em. There's fire hells, ice hells, hells where you do nothing but income taxes or plumbing. You name it, there's probably a hell for it."

Dean just stared at Lindsey's back and blinked at that statement, but he could feel a smidgen of hope in his chest. Apparently Bobby had been right about Lindsey after all, and Dean was certain that if there was any way at all to get John out of hell, that Lindsey could find it.

And if Lindsey could find a way to do it, then Dean would do the rest. No matter the cost.


	2. Chapter 2

Burden of Sacrifice

lawnmowerelf

Lindsey had found the book he was looking for fairly quickly and had settled down at the table with it and proceeded to completely ignore the fact that Sam and Dean were in his house at all. Dean could just hear him humming under his breath as he read, and only the fact that the other man seemed fairly confident in what he was doing kept him from getting impatient at being ignored.

Sam was browsing Lindsey's bookshelves, completely engrossed and more than likely compiling a mental list of books to either ask Lindsey to let him read or to try to find his own copies of. Dean was just sitting at the table across from Lindsey, one eye keeping track of Sam's slow progress around the room and the other watching Lindsey flip pages.

After about ten minutes the quiet finally got to him. "So, there's really a ritual or something to show what happened to Dad's soul?"

Lindsey snorted without ever looking up from his book. "Son, there's a ritual for damn near everything. We're not using one designed for finding souls, though."

Sam turned his attention away from the bookshelves at that odd statement. "Why not? I'd think it would make more sense to use the ritual that was made specifically for what you wanted."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Lindsey shook his head, finally looking up from his book. "But rituals that deal with souls are usually not something you want to be playing around with. Magic that messes with souls is usually seriously dark stuff. Which is why we're improvising."

"Improvising?" For all that Dean thought that Lindsey probably knew what he was talking about, that word did not inspire much in the way of confidence.

Lindsey just grinned. "Yep, improvising. Don't worry none. I know what I'm doing."

Somehow, that still didn't make him feel any better. "Once we can figure out just where Dad's soul is, how do we get him out?"

Something about his question must have bothered Lindsey because the other man went completely still for a moment before very carefully slipping a marker in the book and closing it. "Son, that's where it gets difficult. Finding your daddy's soul is fairly simple. It's the getting him back that's iffy. Depending on which hell he's in, you may not be able to get him out at all."

Dean snapped at that, and before he realized it he was half-way across the table and practically snarling in Lindsey's face. "I don't care what you say, I will get him back."

Lindsey leaned forward until he and Dean were nearly touching noses, blue eyes suddenly cold. "Even if it means leaving your brother in hell to take your daddy's place? Would you still bring your daddy back if you had to leave Sam in hell to suffer instead? Cause depending on where he is, you might. So, think about just how far you're willing to go before you start telling me what you will or won't do, boy."

All of the anger seemed to just blow out of Dean at that, and he almost fell back into his chair in shock. The idea of sacrificing Sam for John was so abhorrent that it had never even entered his head until Lindsey had mentioned the possibility. And the thought that in the heat of the moment he just might have done it without realizing what he was doing made him sick.

He barely noticed Sam moving until he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Dean, you need to breathe. We both know you'd never do something like that."

Dean let out a stuttering breath, glancing up and trying without words to tell Sam that he was deathly afraid that he might, after all. That Sam needed to be careful, to make sure that he didn't get carried away and go too far before he realized it.

Sam just sighed, shaking his head. "Dean, you would never do that. The very fact that you're about to have a panic attack is proof enough. Besides, Lindsey said that it all depended on where Dad is. Let's not get all worked up before we know for sure."

In the face of Sam's steady calm Dean's breathing slowly returned to normal, though he could still feel a hint of panic deep in his chest. And then he nearly jumped out of his chair when Lindsey suddenly slammed the book down on the table and cursed. Only Sam's tightening grip on his shoulder kept him from getting up and pacing.

"What's wrong?"

Lindsey took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe nothing. The ritual I want to use needs something to act as a focus. Which means I need something of your father's, something he had for a while and that meant something to him. It needs to have an imprint of his soul on it in order for me to use it to find him."

Dean could almost hear Sam frowning at that. "An imprint of his soul?"

"Yeah. You have something for a long time, something that has some sort of meaning for you, and bits of your soul sort of rub off on it, spiritually attune it to you."

Dean suddenly turned around to face Sam. "Like the Hookman, Sammy."

Sam's eyes widened. "We couldn't banish him until we destroyed his hook because so much of his anger was tied up in it. It was linked with his spirit." Then he frowned. "Dad didn't have a whole lot. The Impala's more yours than his, and his truck's gone. I buried his dog tags, but I don't know if those would have worked anyway."

After a moment of silence, it finally came to him. "The journal. Sam, what about his hunting journal?"

Dean smiled when Sam slowly nodded. "Yeah, that might work. He used it for years, kept the few pictures of us and mom in it. That journal was almost as much a member of the family to him as the Impala is to you."

Lindsey leaned back in his chair with a grin. "Well then, boys. Why don't you get it, and we'll see if we can't manage to use it to find your daddy."


	3. Chapter 3

Burden of Sacrifice

lawnmowerelf

Lindsey had taken one look at the battered leather journal once they had retrieved it from the Impala and declared that it would work perfectly for what he needed. Then he began pulling various things out of drawers and cabinets and piling them on the table next to the journal and the book he had been reading.

Dean poked carefully through the growing pile, one eyebrow arching at some of the odd items. The holy water and rosemary oil he could sort of understand, but what exactly did the other man think they would need a king-sized chocolate bar for?

When Lindsey sat back down at the table he just grinned at Dean's confused expression and began to draw a pentacle on the table top with chalk, adding a few embellishments that had Sam leaning closer in an attempt to see them better. When he finished it he sat the chalk aside and carefully began to anoint the points of the pentacle with the oil, murmuring something in Latin under his breath.

Since it was painfully obvious that Sam was taking detailed mental notes on what Lindsey was doing, and wishing desperately that he had something to write with so that he could take real notes, Dean could focus on getting control of himself back without worrying about Sam worrying about him. Dean had gone through entirely too many emotional upheavals for his peace of mind in much too short a span of time, and he needed to be calm and in control if he was going to rescue John from hell.

He pulled from his introspection when a small puff of smoke suddenly appeared above the table centered over the pentacle. Lindsey smiled at the sight, rubbing his hands together before reaching for the journal.

"So far so good, boys. Now let's find your daddy." He carefully positioned the journal directly in the center of the pentacle, then sprinkled it with a mix of herbs he pulled from a small pouch. Then he pulled a small, silver knife seemingly from out of nowhere and cut diagonally across his left palm, hissing slightly as he carefully dripped blood onto the corners of the pentacle.

Dean jerked in his chair when Lindsey's head suddenly snapped back, an almost inhuman howl escaping his throat before it cut off into a pained whimper. Then almost as quickly as it happened Lindsey was collapsing face-first onto the table, only Sam's quick reflexes keeping him from quite possibly hitting it and breaking his nose.

Dean jumped out of his chair and hurried around the table, trying to help Sam keep Lindsey upright in his seat. The older man was pale, his eyes only half open and his head lolling against Dean's shoulder. A quick glance at Lindsey's left hand had Dean's eyes widening; the only signs of the cut were a thin silver scar running the length of his palm and the dried blood staining his hand a rusty brownish-red.

Lindsey groaned as Dean and Sam shifted him in the chair until they were fairly sure that he wouldn't fall out onto the floor. "Wow. That packed a bigger punch than I expected." He tilted slightly in the chair, flashing Sam a weak smile when he pushed him back upright. "Do me a favor and unwrap the candy bar and then hand it to me. Need to up my blood sugar after that little parlor trick."

"I was wondering what the chocolate was for." Dean tried to wait patiently for Lindsey to eat the candy bar and tell them what he had found out from the ritual, fully aware that whatever the other man had done had been painful. But since every moment that passed was another that his father was suffering in some hell dimension being patient wasn't exactly easy.

And Lindsey could apparently sense it, because as soon as he finished his chocolate he turned to look at Dean, exhaustion evident in his expression. "Son, I've got good news and I've got bad news. Good news is I know where your daddy's soul is. Bad news is the demon wasn't lying and he's in a hell dimension."

Dean took a deep breath, trying to swallow his fear. "Can we get him back without..., you know?" He waved his hand between himself and Sam, trying to ask without being forced to actually say the words.

Lindsey smiled tiredly. "That's the rest of the good news. The dimension your daddy's in, as long as you can get in and find him there's no balance to keep, no sacrifice to make to get him back out. No leaving anyone behind."

Dean and Sam both deflated in relief, some of the tension almost melting away before Sam spoke. "And the rest of the bad news?" When Dean turned to look at him, Sam just shrugged. "You know as well as I do that there's got to be more bad news coming after that."

"Sam's right, son. The hell dimension your daddy's in? It's not pretty."

Dean frowned. "Uh, it's hell. It's not supposed to be pretty." He really didn't like where the conversation seemed to be going.

Lindsey sighed, slumping tiredly in his chair. "Some hell dimensions are like the stereotypical hell; lake of fire and that kind of thing. It's mostly physical. Someone with a really strong mind could theoretically last almost forever in one of those hells. Then there are hells that are mostly physical but add a bit of mental torture to the mix."

Something in the other man's tone caught Dean's attention. "Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but it kinda sounds like you have some personal experience with that, dude."

The glare Lindsey flashed him was tired but his blue eyes had suddenly gone cold. "Son, all I'm gonna say about that is the only thing worse than having your still beating heart cut out every day is knowing that it's the least you deserve."

Dean swallowed thickly, then nodded silently. There were some things that you just didn't ask about, and that was clearly one of them.

Lindsey nodded back, turning his attention to Sam instead. "Then there's the kind of hell your daddy's in. The torture in those dimensions is mostly mental: reliving every single bad decision you ever made and some you didn't, showing you every time you screwed up and all the bad things that happened because of it. And the whole time you're absolutely convinced that it was all your fault, even if it really wasn't." He glanced back over at Dean. "That's the kind of hell that can break a man's spirit almost before you realize it."

"You're saying that we might be able to rescue Dad, but he might not be the same, aren't you?"

Lindsey nodded at Sam's question but kept his eyes on Dean. "It's something you need to be prepared for before you start making any plans. From what I've heard your daddy's one tough son of a bitch, and if anyone can recover from this it would probably be him. But you need to realize that it may be a long time before he's anything even close to being the way you remember him. And he may never recover completely."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to think about just how damaged his father might be. Then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and met Lindsey's eyes.

"So, what's the next step?"


	4. Chapter 4

Burden of Sacrifice

lawnmowerelf

"The next step is getting the two of you prepared to go get your daddy." Lindsey smiled tiredly, hiding a yawn behind his hand. "While I take a quick nap before I fall out into the floor." He reached absently for one of the smaller books that had been pushed to the edge of the table and handed it to Sam. "Look through that while I sleep. It should cover the basics of what you're gonna be doing, and I'll go over the details once I can manage to keep my eyes open."

Sam had the book cracked open and was skimming through the table of contents before Lindsey had even managed to pull himself to his feet. The older man just shook his head, a small smile on his face and glanced over at Dean, fighting back another yawn. "If I'm not up in four hours, come wake me. The sooner we do this, the better the odds of our getting away with it."

Dean watched Lindsey amble towards what he figured was a bedroom, wincing in sympathy as the other man almost stumbled into the door frame. Then once he was out of sight Dean turned back to Sam who seemed to be practically devouring the small book. "So, Sammy, what all's in there that we need to know?"

"This is fascinating, Dean. I had no idea there were so many things to consider in doing something like this, though I suppose I should have." He suddenly frowned. "Huh. That might be a bit of a problem."

Dean groaned quietly. "What might be a problem, Sam? I don't know if you've noticed this, but I don't like problems."

Sam glanced at him from over the top of the book. "We burned Dad's body. If we can manage to get his soul out of this hell dimension, where is it going to go?"

Dean fell back into his chair, mouth dropping open. "I...have absolutely no idea. It never even occurred to me. What made you think of that anyway?"

"The chapter I was skimming mentioned something about how to 'cleanse the physical vessel' properly so that it would be able to receive the soul. We don't have anything like that for Dad."

That definitely sounded like a problem to Dean. He shoved his chair backwards, scraping it across the floor in his rush to get to his feet, and began pacing around the table. "Okay, this is just a minor setback. We can come up with something." He paused, lower lip caught between his teeth in thought. "Lindsey improvised the ritual to find Dad's soul. Maybe we can improvise something for the vessel."

He glanced hopefully at Sam who was slowly nodding. "We can probably come up with something that will work, and even if we can't Lindsey might have some ideas. After all, that's how new branches of magic often develop: through improvisation." He dug through the small pile of books, and after a minute of searching handed one to Dean. "You look through that one and I'll keep reading this one. Let me know if you find anything that looks like it might work."

Dean started flipping through the book, his frown growing the more he read. "You weren't kidding about this being complicated, were you, Sammy? There's stuff in here about anchors, protective runes, soul location spells, things to do if certain kinds of demons or evil spirits latch on to you while you're in the hell dimensions, everything but the kitchen sink." He sighed, running a hand absently through his hair. "I don't see anything about vessels, though."

"I think I might have something, but it's kind of confusing."

Dean perked up a bit at that. "Well, let's hear it, Sam. Maybe if we put our heads together we can figure it out."

Sam just shrugged. "Sure. This looks like it might be more your kind of thing anyway. Apparently if you're going to a hell dimension to retrieve a soul you have to go in physically. Your body acts as a temporary vessel to hold the soul until you get back and then the soul is removed from you and put into the permanent vessel. But it looks like there's also a ritual that can be done to form a new vessel for the soul."

"A new vessel? What, like a new body? Or just some sort of soul-holding orb that can double as a paperweight?"

Sam shrugged again, handing the book over. "I don't know, Dean. The language in that part is a bit vague. Maybe it'll make more sense to you."

Dean skimmed over the passage Sam indicated, brow furrowing as he read. "Huh. It almost looks like the type of vessel you get depends on how much energy you put into the ritual and how much self-awareness the soul still has. So you could end up with a new body or a paperweight orb, or anything in between."

"That sounds like it might fit with what I read. And if it means what we think it means and we can work the ritual, it would be like Dad never died. Physically, at least."

He was trying not to let Sam get their hopes up too high, but it was really hard when Sam said things like that. "Do you think we really can work the ritual, Sammy?"

Sam took the book back, read over the passage again slowly, took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, Dean. I really think we can."


	5. Chapter 5

Burden of Sacrifice

lawnmowerelf

Four hours later Dean and Sam were still pouring over the books Lindsey had left them, both of them taking notes and occasionally asking the other for their opinion on ritual ingredients or protection symbols. They both looked up when Lindsey ambled back out of the bedroom, obviously still tired but in much better condition than he'd been in when he left.

"So, boys, what do you have so far?"

Sam started putting the books in some kind of order that only he understood as Lindsey got himself a cup of coffee and dropped into a nearby chair. "We know that we need to go in physically to retrieve Dad's soul, and that one of us will have to act as a temporary vessel until we're out of the hell dimension. There was something about needing an anchor, but neither of us was quite sure just how that worked."

"You boys don't need to worry about the anchor. That's where I come in."

Sam blinked a bit at that, but shrugged and continued with his listing. "We know that we'll need some sort of protective symbols to keep us safe while we're there, but I was never able to figure out the best configuration."

Dean interrupted then, glancing over at Lindsey. "We were kinda hoping that you might know what to do about that part, too."

Lindsey just nodded, lips curling up in a small smile. "I might have some ideas about that, yeah. You run into any problems?"

"Yeah, there is one tiny little problem." Dean leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. "Once we get Dad's soul out of hell, where's it gonna go? We found some options, but neither of us is absolutely sure that any of them'll work."

Lindsey smiled. "Now see, that's the sort of forward thinking that most people in your position don't bother to do. They just figure they'll go in, grab the soul and come back and everything'll be just great. That's where they make their mistakes. It's nice to see you two are smarter than that."

That made Dean feel a little better about his and Sam's chances, but still didn't answer his question. "So, what will we do with Dad's soul once we get it back?"

"You found the ritual for bringing a soul back into a new body?" Lindsey was speaking to Sam, but his attention was still focused on Dean. "Under other circumstances I'd say you should go for that one."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Other circumstances?"

Lindsey nodded. "Yeah. That ritual takes a hell of a lot of energy, and I really don't think you boys could pull it off right now. Maybe in a couple of weeks, but I doubt you want your daddy to wait that long."

Dean was opening his mouth to argue when Sam interrupted, flashing him a stern look that had Dean slumping back in his chair with a frown. "So, if we can't use that ritual, what do you suggest we do use?"

"We improvise."

Dean was getting really tired of the word improvise. No matter how knowledgable Lindsey seemed, how competent Bobby had said that he was, all this talk of improvising with John's soul on the line was not filling him with confidence. "We improvise?"

Lindsey just smiled at him, baring his teeth slightly more than was strictly friendly. "Unless you boys have an Orb of Thesulah tucked somewhere in that car of yours. You don't, do you?"

"We've never even seen one." Sam smiled, obviously trying to lessen the tension a bit. "Magical items like that are a little out of our price range."

"I sort of figured. Which is why we improvise." Lindsey moved over to the bookshelf and pulled down a small, round silver paperweight with runes carved into the wooden base. "You two retrieve your daddy's soul and we'll put it in here temporarily, where he'll be safe until we can work out the best way to make him a new body."

Dean blinked, staring at the paperweight doubtfully. "And that'll work? Dad'll be okay in there?"

Lindsey sighed, dropping the paperweight carefully onto the table where Sam almost immediately reached for it and began studying the runes. "Son, if you didn't think I knew what I was talking about, why did you come here in the first place? I get that you're worried about your daddy, but you're the ones who came to me. So how about you let me do what you came here for me to do, and stop implying that I don't know what I'm talking about?"

Sam glanced up from the paperweight and met Dean's eyes. "He's got a point, Dean. And he does know what he's doing. The runes on this thing? They're all about keeping a soul safe and secure, and there's even a couple on here that look like they're for healing a damaged soul." He reached out, resting his free hand on Dean's arm. "This is the best place I can think of for Dad's soul to rest until we can come up with some way to get him a new body."

After a long moment Dean sighed and nodded. He knew that he was being harder on Lindsey than he should, especially since as Lindsey had said he and Sam had come to him asking for help. But he hated the very idea of leaving John's fate not only in the hands of a stranger, but in the hands of a stranger that didn't seem to be taking things as seriously as Dean thought he should and kept tossing established rituals out and making up his own instead.

If there had been anyone else who could do what they needed, and if Sam didn't seem fairly confident in Lindsey's abilities, Dean would have already been out the door and driving away. Unfortunately, there wasn't.

"All right. So once we get Dad's soul out of hell he can hang out in the paperweight while we somehow come up with a new body for him." Dean ran a hand through his hair. "What else do we need to do before we can go save him?"

Lindsey just leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. "That's pretty much it, boys. Once I do the protective symbols we can start the ritual to send the two of you to hell after your daddy."

And from the tone of his voice, Dean thought that Lindsey might rather enjoy sending them to hell, even if they weren't going to stay there permanently. Or at least he might enjoy sending Dean there, since he seemed to like Sam well enough for some reason. Which was just fine with Dean, since the feeling was entirely mutual.

"All right, then. Let's get moving. Time's wasting." Dean grinned, shaking the tension out of his shoulders. Finally, they were almost ready to go save John. And it wasn't a minute too soon.


	6. Chapter 6

Burden of Sacrifice

lawnmowerelf

"The first thing you boys need is to get the protective runes taken care of. So pull off your shirts."

Sam and Dean just stared at each other in silence while Lindsey headed for a nearby shelf and began reaching for things. Why the hell did he need them to take off their shirts?

Lindsey snorted quietly, not even bothering to look back at them. "I'm not hearing those shirts coming off, boys. I'm gonna need bare skin for the runes. They're a whole lot more effective if they're inked onto skin."

Dean bristled. "You're talking about tattoos?"

"Temporary ones." Lindsey glanced back over his shoulder with a grin. "Sure, the permanent ones are a hell of a lot more effective, but they also take a hell of a lot longer and are about the most painful thing you will ever go through in your life." The grin turned wolfish. "The really good ones are so powerful, and painful, that almost every human that tries to get them dies."

One of Dean's eyebrows went up at the odd tone in Lindsey's voice, but tucked his questions into the back of his mind, along with his curiosity about Lindsey's obvious experience with hell dimensions, to worry about later. Once they had retrieved John, then he would make a point of asking the other man about it.

"Exactly what kinds of tattoos are we talking about? Protective runes, or what?"

At Sam's question Lindsey's smile lost some of its edge. "Some of the runes are strictly defensive, enough to keep you pretty well safe in just about any hell dimension. Most of them are for stealth and secrecy, though. Better to keep all the nasty things lurking around in hell from finding you in the first place, don't you think?"

Well, that was a sentiment that Dean could certainly agree with, so he mentally shrugged and pulled off his shirt, noticing Sam doing the same out of the corner of his eye. "So, how does this whole tattooing thing work? Do you just paint the symbols on us, or are we talking about something more complicated?"

"This part is a bit more involved then just slapping a temporary tattoo on your chest and sending you off into hell, son." Lindsey's expression was bordering on smug as he sat three small wooden bowls on the table and began to measure out herbs and various other things into them. "First off, you've gotta have the right kind of ink, otherwise you'd be just as well off using permanent marker."

Something about Lindsey's expression sent of warning bells in Dean's mind. "There something you're not telling us about this?"

Lindsey shrugged, trying and failing to look innocent. "It's the ink in the tattoos that helps to link the two of you together while you're in hell. It's also what keeps you tied to your anchor; namely me. Which means that the ink needs to be personalized."

Sam sucked in a breath. "You mean the ink needs our blood in it, don't you?"

"You catch on quick, don't you, son? Blood's the only thing that'll work for this." Lindsey gestured towards the bowls. "One bowl for each of us to keep everybody's ink separate. Dean's gonna be the temporary vessel for your daddy's soul, so the ink for his tattoos will have his blood and yours in it. You're the link in the chain, so your ink has his blood, your blood and my blood. I'm the anchor, so my ink has my blood and yours."

Sam's eyes widened. "The blood binds the runes to the person wearing the ink as well as the next person in the chain, doesn't it? It forms some sort of mystical bond to keep anyone from getting lost."

Lindsey nodded. "Yep. Even if you weren't using the tattoos to link you to anyone else, they'd still need your own blood in the ink for them to work since without blood there's no binding force."

Dean was pretty sure that he had figured out just what Sam and Lindsey were talking about, but he wanted to make absolutely sure. "So you're saying that the ink for my tattoos needs my blood in order to bind the protective runes to me, and it needs Sam's blood to bind me to him so that I don't get stuck in a hell dimension somewhere, right?"

"Pretty much. There are other ways to get in and out of a hell dimension, but I don't have the resources and even if I did, I don't think it's the kind of thing that you two would go for." When Dean raised an eyebrow, Lindsey just shrugged. "I wasn't always one of the good guys, son."

There wasn't really much that Dean could say to that, or at least there wasn't anything that he was willing to say to that until after they'd gotten John back, so he just nodded at Lindsey and rubbed his hands together. "So, how do we do this?"

It turned out that making the ink was actually quite easy, and Lindsey had it almost completely ready in only a few minutes. He divided it among the three bowls, then reached for his silver knife.

"Okay, boys. Time for a little donation."

Dean went first, a shallow cut along the palm of his left hand producing just enough blood for three drops to fall in each of his and Sam's bowls. Then it was Sam's turn, dripping blood into each of the bowls. And finally Lindsey cut his left hand, just below where the thin scar from his previous blood-letting still was.

"Time for the tattoos now, boys. Dean, flip your chair around and sit back down so I can get to your back and then just sit still."

Lindsey was all business, so Dean just nodded and did as instructed, resting his chin on the back of the chair and closing his eyes. The minute the damp brush hit his back he felt an odd tingle that seemed to spread through his whole body the more ink Lindsey applied. And as a small rune was traced onto the back of his neck, Dean could feel a spark in the back of his mind that seemed to radiate Sam-ness.

He was pulled from his contemplation of the Sam-spark when Lindsey spoke. "Time to turn around, Dean. I need to get your chest, too."

Dean nodded again, shifting in the chair until he was facing Lindsey. The rest of the tattoos took almost no time at all, and as Lindsey finished the last one over Dean's heart Dean felt a wave of heat pass through him, leaving an odd sense of safety in its wake.

He shook his head a bit, meeting Sam's worried eyes. "That was kind of a rush. I think I can feel these things working."

Lindsey smiled with satisfaction. "Good. That means everything's working properly." He glanced over at Sam and crooked his finger. "Your turn, Sam."

An hour later the tattoos were finished, even the small ones that Sam had inked onto the back of Lindsey's shoulders. Dean was still occasionally poking at the Sam-spark in his mind and grinning whenever Sam wrinkled his nose at him in response. Lindsey was checking something over in one of his books again before he closed it with a decisive nod.

"All right, boys. It's time for the main event. All that's left is for me to open a portal to the hell dimension your daddy's in and you can go in and get him. Watch your backs, and all Sam has to do is send me the sign and I'll pull the two of you back through the portal."

Dean glanced over at Sam, jaw set and eyes serious. It was finally time to go save John.


	7. Chapter 7

Burden of Sacrifice

lawnmowerelf

When Lindsey started working Dean couldn't help but think that the whole thing was somewhat anticlimactic. A few symbols drawn on the floor with chalk, a quick sprinkle of the rosemary oil and a few phrases in Latin was apparently all that was necessary to open a portal to hell, which seemed just a little too easy to Dean. Not that he wanted it to be complicated right at the moment, but it was the principle of the thing.

The moment Lindsey finished speaking ripples began to form in the air above the chalked symbols until there was what looked like a jagged tear in reality a few inches taller than Sam. If Dean squinted he could just make out a dull reddish haze on the other side of the tear, but nothing more distinct.

Once the tear finally settled, Lindsey flashed them a small smile. "Go get him, boys. I'll be waiting to pull you out the minute Sam gives a tug."

Dean nodded, then turned to Sam. "You ready to walk into hell, Sammy?"

Sam snorted. "You take me to the nicest places, Dean. You think after we get Dad back we can go on vacation somewhere nicer? Maybe the beach or something?"

Dean grinned and shook his head. "Yeah, Sam. I think we can manage that."

Dean had no idea what to expect when he and Sam stepped through the portal, but what they found was definitely odd. True, the air was hot and dry and smelled of sulfur, but that was really all that seemed even slightly hellish. They were in a room that looked like it went on forever, filled with nothing but rows and rows of shelves that went all the way from the floor to about a foot over Sam's head. It was almost like standing in the library version of a hedge maze, completely unable to see where anything was in relation to anything else.

"This is...different."

Sam nodded, eyes wide as he glanced around the huge room. "I know Lindsey said that there were all sorts of different hells, but this is definitely not what I was expecting. What would Dad be doing here?"

Dean shrugged, then his attention was caught by what was sitting on the shelves: row upon row of faintly glowing orbs. "Um, I think I figured that part out, Sammy."

Sam turned, eyebrows going up when he finally noticed the orbs. "You think he's in one of those?"

"I don't know how, but I just know. It's kinda weird, actually." Dean rubbed a hand over his face and grimaced. "It's gonna take us forever to find him, though. There must be thousands of these orbs in here."

Before Sam could say anything they heard a noise coming from around the nearby corner. Eyes wide, they both ducked behind one of the shelves, crouching down and peering carefully around the edge. A moment later an extremely large demon came into view and began looking over one of the shelves.

The demon was easily a foot taller than Sam, with dark red leathery looking skin and a pair of short horns protruding from its forehead. Once it found the orb it was looking for it grinned, showcasing a mouthful of sharp yellow teeth and the tip of a forked tongue. It placed the orb into a pouch that was hanging from its belt and walked back the way it had come, whistling something off-tune and bobbing its head to the beat.

Once it was gone Sam and Dean looked at each other with identical dumbfounded expressions on their faces. "This place just gets weirder and weirder."

Sam shook his head with a frown. "It's hell, Dean. I think its supposed to be weird. Now, how are we going to find Dad in here?"

Dean frowned in thought, chewing absently on his lower lip. "I don't suppose these orbs are labeled or anything, are they? I mean, demon boy had to be able to figure out which orb he wanted somehow."

Sam shrugged, stepping around Dean so that he could get a closer look at the orbs. "I suppose there would have to be some sort of cataloging system. We just need to figure it out and not get caught."

"Right. We just need to figure out how they organize things in hell. That'll be a snap, no problem." Dean grimaced, then absently reached out to touch one of the orbs.

The moment his hand made contact his head jerked back in pain and his teeth clenched in an attempt to hold in a scream. An instant later Sam was behind him and holding Dean up while yanking his hand away from the orb.

"Dean! What the hell happened?"

Dean shook his head violently, small tremors beginning to shake his entire body. "That was seriously not fun. Whatever you do, Sammy, do not touch any of those things. You hear me?"

Sam nodded, carefully easing Dean down to the floor and crouching down behind him in support. "I won't, Dean. I promise. Now, are you okay?"

Dean started to nod, then changed his mind and shook his head. "You know why this doesn't look like hell, Sammy? Because hell is inside those orbs. One soul per orb, and each one is that poor sap's own personal hell. And Dad's stuck in one of them."

Sam just squeezed Dean's shoulder. "We'll get him out, Dean. You know we will." Once it looked like Dean was steady he pushed back to his feet and moved towards the nearest shelf. After a long moment of study, he frowned. "I can't find any sort of label anywhere on here, Dean."

Dean slowly got to his feet and began pacing. "Maybe we can use these tattoo things to find Dad. I mean, you can feel me in your head, right?"

Sam nodded. "And from the way you were poking at me earlier you can feel me too. But that's because of the blood in the ink."

"I know, Sam. But we both share Dad's blood, so why can't we use that connection to try to find him? Focus on feeling for something that's like you and me, but different?"

Sam just shrugged. "It can't hurt to try, I guess."

Dean smiled, slapping Sam on the back. "That's the spirit, Sam. Now, try to focus on Dad the same way you'd focus on me." Once he was sure that Sam was following his instructions Dean closed his eyes. He brushed past the Sam-spark in his mind, only touching it long enough to get a feel for it, before turning his attention outward.

He could feel pain radiating from all around him, from all of the souls trapped in the orbs, but there was nothing personal to the sensation, just a general sense of pain and hopelessness. It was almost overwhelming until Dean caught a hint of something different lurking at the edge of his mind.

The pain and despair were incredibly strong in that particular soul, but they hadn't quite managed to snuff out the small flicker of defiance that felt intimately familiar to Dean. A hint of strength that practically shouted 'Dad' in Dean's mind.

His eyes snapped open, and Dean grabbed Sam's arm and began pulling him through the aisles, following the thin thread of Dad-ness towards a dark corner that had been mostly hidden in shadow. Sam kept quiet, seemingly content to just follow Dean's lead. Then, after jogging around the shelves until they were out of breath Dean stopped in front of an orb that rather than just glowing faintly actually flickered, occasionally growing brighter and changing colors.

"Is that...?"

Dean nodded, eyes never leaving the flickering orb. "Yeah, Sammy. That's Dad."


	8. Chapter 8

Burden of Sacrifice

lawnmowerelf

Sam stared at the orb, absently reaching out to touch it and only managing to stop when his fingers were about an inch away. "How are we going to get him out of there, Dean? Or are we supposed to bring the orb out with us?"

Dean shook his head almost before Sam finished speaking. "There's no way we're taking that orb with us. I think that thing is actually part of hell. We need to get Dad out and into me, and boy did that sound really weird, even for us."

Sam chuckled tiredly. "Yeah, it kinda does. So, did Lindsey tell you how to do this part?"

"Nope." Dean shrugged. "Guess I'll wing it."

He slowly extended his hand, his determination to save his father warring against his fear of touching the orb and actually feeling John's personal hell. After a long moment he finally clenched his jaw and grabbed the orb, falling to his knees as a wave of sheer agony slammed into him.

Dean tried to push past the overwhelming hopelessness and pain, tried to find that spark that still said 'Dad' no matter what it had been put through. He almost couldn't find it, was within a breath of letting go of the orb and telling Sam that maybe they'd have to take the orb with them after all. Then something began to slowly reach back towards him, as if it was afraid that if it touched him Dean would disappear.

Dean pushed towards the presence carefully, doing his best to radiate calmness and safety. Then, once the presence that Dean knew instinctively was John was close enough, Dean gently tugged at it, pulling John's soul out of the orb and into his own body.

It was only after John's soul was safely out of the orb that Dean felt Sam briskly shaking his shoulder. "Dean! Talk to me, Dean."

"Sam? What's wrong?" Dean winced as the sound of his own voice sent shards of agony through his head and closed his eyes. He felt off-balance, almost like his head was too heavy and full.

"Dean, we've got to get out of here. I think some sort of alarm just went off, and I don't know about you but I don't want to run into that demon again." Sam paused, reaching out to steady Dean as he swayed. "Did you manage to get Dad?"

Dean nodded before he had a chance to think better of it and clenched his eyes as a wave of dizziness and nausea swept through him. "Yeah, Sam. I got him. Let's go."

Sam frowned as he helped Dean push himself to his feet, then had to brace him when he began to sway. "Are you sure you can walk?"

"Do I have a choice?" When Sam didn't say anything, Dean nodded carefully. "Then let's go. You may have to help me, though."

Sam didn't bother to answer, just pulled one of Dean's arms over his shoulder and led him as quickly as they could manage back to where the portal had opened. There was only one close call when they had to duck back behind one of the nearby shelves and wait while the demon they had seen earlier stalked past, heading back the way they'd come.

After that they tried to move faster, Dean doing his best to ignore both the pain in his head and the increasing dizziness. The moment they made it back Sam got a firmer grip on Dean and closed his eyes.

In the part of his brain that wasn't focused on ignoring the pain Dean could tell what Sam was doing, almost feel him tugging on the link that connected them to Lindsey. Then, just as he heard pounding footsteps heading in their direction the portal opened again and Sam pushed him through before jumping through himself.

Dean landed flat on his face, biting back a pained yelp when Sam landed squarely on his back. He groaned in relief when Lindsey pulled Sam off, and carefully rolled over onto his back so that he could rest his aching head against the floor.

"Dean, are you okay?"

Dean just closed his eyes, sighing when the lack of light eased his headache a bit. "Feels like my head's about to explode, and if I move I may just lose my lunch all over Lindsey's carpet. Other than that, I'm just peachy."

"Human body's not meant to hold more than one soul at a time." Lindsey knelt down next to Dean, one hand going to his forehead to check for a fever. "Your daddy stayed in there for too long and you'd get seriously sick, eventually die. Either that, or one of you would kick the other out of your body."

Dean grimaced. "So how do we get Dad out of my head anyway?"

Lindsey grinned. "That's actually one of the easiest bits of this whole enterprise. I cut your hand, place your hand on the orb, say a few words and your daddy's soul should slide right into the orb."

"That almost sounds too easy."

Lindsey chuckled. "Boy, something about this oughta be easy. It's not like any of the rest of this is gonna be."

Dean just stayed lying on the floor while Lindsey and Sam got whatever it was that they needed together. He would occasionally poke at the John-presence in his mind, but other than a lingering feeling of John-ness there wasn't much in the way of recognition there. It was as if John's soul still had just enough self-awareness to know who he was, but not much else.

He pulled his attention back to his surroundings when he felt Sam grab his right hand. He opened his eyes a fraction, closing them again when he saw the knife in Sam's free hand. There was a quick flash of pain when Sam cut his hand, then a wave of cooling energy when his hand was placed on the orb.

Dean felt his father's soul slip quietly into the orb, leaving his head feeling oddly empty and the pain slowly fading. When he managed to blink his eyes open again and turned to look at the orb, his mouth dropped open. The formerly plain silver orb was now glowing a pale blue, looking like a much more peaceful version of the orbs that had been on the shelves in hell.

"You're sure he's okay in there?"

Lindsey nodded, reaching down to carefully pick up the now-glowing orb. "He's as fine as he's gonna be right now. He's got a lot of healing to do, but if he's anywhere near as stubborn as the two of you are, eventually he'll heal."

Dean groaned as he pushed himself up off the floor, stretching to get the kinks out of his back. "Now what do we do?"

"Now you boys rest up, get your strength back, and then we can work on the ritual to get your daddy a body again." Lindsey sat the orb gently on the table where it wouldn't get knocked off. "Then we start him healing."


	9. Chapter 9

Burden of Sacrifice

lawnmowerelf

It had been an entire week before Lindsey had even let Sam and Dean think about trying to work out some way to get a body for John, insisting that they would be thinking much more clearly after a good long rest. And as much as Dean hated to admit it, Lindsey had been right. He and Sam had been running on fumes for far too long, evidenced by the fact that they had both slept for over twenty hours solid once they had retrieved John's soul from the hell dimension.

Plus, John's soul seemed perfectly fine hanging out in its paperweight, and Dean thought that the pale blue glow surrounding it had even gotten a bit brighter, which he figured was probably a good thing. At least, Lindsey apparently thought it was if the satisfied nod he had given the orb the last time he walked past it was anything to go by.

However, even once Lindsey lifted their research ban they still had problems. Every time one of them found a ritual that looked like it would work the other would point out a loophole that ruined the whole thing. It was getting to the point that Dean was starting to believe that there was no way to bring John back without sacrificing something that neither of them could accept.

Creating a body out of nothing took an incredible amount of energy, and one thing that all of the books agreed on was that the casters always lost something in the process, though none of them seemed to know just what would be lost, just that it would be something personal, something important. They hadn't dismissed that option out of hand, but they were holding it back as a last resort.

They couldn't use someone else's body since the body would either have to still be alive, and therefore still in use by someone else, or very recently dead, as in no more than half an hour. That option was also completely unfeasible since the ritual would take almost a full hour to complete, rendering a very recently dead body useless. Why anyone would come up with such a useless ritual Dean had no idea.

Dean slammed the book he'd been reading closed and growled in frustration, completely ignoring the glower Lindsey flashed him at the book's treatment. "This is going nowhere, Sam. Every single ritual we've found has had a huge honking hole in it somewhere, and we're no closer to figuring out a way to get Dad back than we were when we started."

Sam sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He's not in hell anymore, Dean, and that's still a big step forward. We'll find something eventually, and if it takes a little while, then at least Dad's somewhere safe while we work."

"I know, Sam." Dean ran a hand through his hair and slumped in his chair. "I know, but all this sitting around looking for something we're not finding is driving me crazy."

"I'd noticed." The smirk Sam sent him was weak, but Dean appreciated the effort anyway. "But we will find something."

"What if we don't?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted as Lindsey slipped into the room and placed a thin book on the table between them.

"If there isn't any acceptable way to get your daddy a body back, I have a ritual that will send his soul on to it's proper place in the afterlife. No fancy hell dimensions, just wherever he would have gone if he'd died of natural causes." He looked up at met Dean's eyes. "I imagine he'd wind up wherever your momma is."

Dean sighed and nodded. "He'd like that."

"Yeah, he would." Sam paused. "Dean, this may be the best we can do."

"I know, Sam. But it doesn't seem fair."

Lindsey flashed him a slightly mocking smile. "Hadn't you heard? Life isn't fair. Life is pain. Anyone who says different is selling something."

Dean blinked, certain that he hadn't just heard what he thought he had. "Did you just quote The Princess Bride at me? Seriously?"

The smile morphed into an honest grin. "Did you seriously just admit that you've seen the movie enough to quote it?"

Dean grimaced. "Actually, I used to read the book to Sammy as a bedtime story. He loved that whole true love thing."

Sam didn't even look up, just tossed a pen at Dean's head. "You just liked trying to scare me with the giant rats."

"Yeah, that too." Dean just looked at Sam for a moment, then opened the book again and started reading.

A week later they still hadn't made any progress on getting a body for John, and Dean was beginning to lose hope. "Sam, please tell me that you've got something, anything." Dean leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his face.

Sam just shook his head. "Nothing, Dean. Even the one ritual that we found earlier, the more I look at it the more I think it wouldn't work, either." He slowly looked up and met Dean's eyes. "I don't think we're going to find anything this time, Dean."

Dean closed his eyes. He hated the idea of giving up, of admitting that they couldn't do this one thing for their dad, but it didn't look like they had a choice. As much as he couldn't stand the idea of sending John's soul on, he liked the idea of leaving him in the paperweight even less.

"We're really gonna have to do this, just send him on to the afterlife?"

"He'll be with Mom, Dean. He deserves to rest with her. He's been fighting long enough."

After a long moment, Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know, Sammy. Doesn't mean that I like giving up on him, though."

Sam sighed. "We're not giving up, Dean. We got him out of hell, and he'll get to see Mom again. This may not be what we wanted, but we still saved him."

"Whatever. I'll go tell Lindsey to get his sending-on ritual ready." Dean scraped his chair back from the table and headed outside, refusing to look at Sam and the sympathy that he knew would be written all over his face.

It was the next day before they could perform the ritual, though Dean was fairly sure that the delay was due to Lindsey wanting to give them time to say goodbye. The ritual itself was short and simple, with Lindsey reciting a few phrases in Latin and anointing the orb with rosemary oil.

The moment he finished the orb flashed a bright silver blue, then went dark.

Dean blinked. "That's it? How do we know Dad's okay, and not back in hell or something?"

Lindsey frowned, head tilted as he looked at the dark orb. "Huh. That's not quite what it's supposed to do."

Before Dean could reach for Lindsey's throat and demand to know just what he meant by that there was a muted flash of light over by the orb. A moment later, the space in front of the orb was filled by a translucent image of John Winchester, glowing the same pale blue as the orb had.

Dean's eyes went wide, and he was absently aware of Sam slowly stepping up next to him. "Dad?"

John smiled, hands shoved in his pockets. "Hey, boys."

Lindsey shook his head with a chuckle. "Should have known. Nobody named Winchester ever does what they're supposed to." He glanced over at Sam and Dean with a grin. "Looks like you boys have yourselves a guardian spirit for a father."

Sam's answering grin was shaky. "Yeah, that's Dad for you."


End file.
